


Gamblin' Man

by Sixpence



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixpence/pseuds/Sixpence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick had always been a gambling man. Even though half of Vegas has gone to hell, some habits are just too hard to break. One shot, NickxEllis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gamblin' Man

Nick had always been a gambling man.

When he'd been younger, he used to brag to his poker companions that he'd gambled away his first toys as a child. Then, as he'd matured in years and notoriety, he hadn't needed to brag about anything; people had simply known just who he was. That smart-mouthed, self-assured conman who, through either goddamned luck or underhanded cheating would take everyone's winnings and then clear straight outta there before anyone could stop him.

In Detroit, they called him a devil; wearing rich cologne and a charming smile that disguised all manner of wicked sins. In Deadwood, he was rumoured to have spent three days cleaning out Cadillac Jack's before making his getaway in an ill-gotten Corvette with three girls in the back seat. When he reached Las Vegas, doormen were briefed to keep an eye out for a man with slicked-back hair and a tailored white suit. It wasn't that Nick was a white suit kind of guy, but he'd seen Stephen Freeman wearing one once (much to his chagrin, Elvis had died whilst he was too young to appreciate him, so he'd had to learn the names of all the best impersonators), and had dutifully felt the need to buy one himself soon after. In addition to that, there was, quite simply, something unquestionably  _fulfilling_  about being able to say that you were loaded enough to be able to spend $3000 on one outfit in your wardrobe.

So, yes - Nick was a gambling man. He'd been sneaking into casinos since his voice had broken and he'd been old enough to pass himself off as an adult, and even something like the Infection wasn't going to beat years of vice and habit out of his system.

So when they'd found sanctuary in the back of an abandoned liquor store, their day's travelling cut short by bad weather, they'd found themselves short of some way to pass the time, and the conman hadn't wasted a moment as he'd produced a battered pack of cards from god-knew-where and charmingly suggested a few rounds of blackjack.

Surprisingly, there had been no complaints. Rochelle, of all people, came out with the revelation that she'd once won $150 in a work poker tournament, and then Coach had decided that hell, they were in no hurry to get to wherever they were goin' so they might as well enjoy it, and then had proceeded to break out a crate of beer and several bottles of whiskey from the store cupboards. Naturally, Ellis had been quite happy to go along with anything so long as it involved good company and the prospect of getting drunk.

With all of them simply grateful for even just half a day in a safe, dry and (relatively) warm place, what had started out as a few friendly rounds had turned into a pretty competitive tournament fuelled with fresh bottles of wine, a bottle of vodka that Rochelle had found under the counter and an increasingly risqué game of truth or dare for the losers of each round. Secrets had been traded like poker chips and, eventually, Coach had had to declare himself too old for such things (just as they were getting to the really good stuff, Ellis had complained), and had retired to an early night; not long after, Rochelle had passed out next to him, capable enough to win $150 at poker but not enough to hold two bottles of Merlot.

Which left Nick and Ellis, who both seemed coherent enough to continue playing, neither of them particularly inclined to surrender to the fact that it was probably time that they got some sleep themselves. To Nick's pleasure, Ellis had proved to be sufficient enough at cards, and in all truth, staying up late suited them both just fine.

Now the two of them, even from the moment they'd first met, had developed a tendency to rub each others' backs up the wrong way. It couldn't be said that they suffered each others' company any easier after a few months of travelling together, but living each day like it was probably going to be your last brought people together in odd ways. A week back, they'd finally met sharp tongues and words with hot lips and teeth, and then arching bodies and grasping touches. It hadn't changed a thing - Ellis was still a loudmouthed hick, and Nick was still a sharp-tongued bastard, and though they hadn't mentioned it since they'd been endlessly testing each other, taking any moment when Coach and Rochelle weren't listening to feel out just where they stood with the other.

"Hold 'em?"

Ellis had been reaching for a fresh beer, but he looked up at the sound of Nick's voice, a lack of comprehension on his face. "What?"

"Texas hold 'em," Nick repeated, regarding him over the top of the cards. "You know how to play it, right? Of course you do - you're from Texas."

"Savannah," Ellis corrected him.

Nick gave one of those infuriatingly amused smiles - the kind he reserved for when he was shit-stirring - and started to deal out two hands. "Same thing. Either way, you're into tractors, right?"

Ellis's look turned flat. "You're a shit. Y'know that, right?"

Nick simply rewarded himself for his wit with a smug look. "So? You know how to play?"

"'Course I do." For a moment, the mechanic looked surprised to be dealt only two cards, before picking them up anyway and taking a moment to evaluate it, before switching them into a more comprehensible order. "Ain't it jus' like reg'lar poker?"

It was Nick's turn to look incredulous, both of his eyebrows rising. "'Ain't it jus' like reg'lar poker'," he echoed under his breath, mimicking the younger man's accent. "You're shitting me. I am never taking you to Vegas - you've just offended all of my moral principles."

"Oh, y'got yo'self some o' those?" Ellis met his gaze, and gave a lopsided, wicked grin, before taking a swig of beer. "C'mon - teach me, then. How d'you play?"

"How about you try picking it up as we play? Seeing as it's 'jus' reg'lar poker'," Nick suggested. He had a bottle of wine at his side - already half empty - and he used it to refill the camping mug he was drinking from.

"Aw, hell, Nick - if y'scared of me beatin' you, y'jus' have t'say. C'mon, I'll go easy on yuh. Only fair 'tween friends, right?"

Flatly unamused by the mechanic's laughter, Nick leant back on one hand, and placed three cards face up between them. "Place a bet, Overalls."

Ellis' grin was easy. "Hell - I don't know how t'play an' you're makin' me bet from the get-go? Now I know y'ain't got no heart. Fine, lessee... Truths again? Seein' as I ain't got no money an' I ain't no way in hell givin' you my last beer."

"Truths, huh…" Considering his own hand, Nicks' gaze came up - regarding the boy for some moments. "Most girls you ever slept with at once."

Surprise shot across Ellis' face, but the beer had loosened his already-easy manner, and he replied without pause. "Two. Wait - I ain't lost yet, have I? Piss - ah well. Was gonna lose anyway. What 'bout you?"

"Me?" The rules of gambling were going out the window faster than he could see, but Nick saw no harm in answering, even though he hadn't either lost or even finished the round. "Four. There are some pretty decent ladies in Deadwood."

"That 'fore you got chased out, or after y'snuck back in again?" Ellis watched as Nick placed another card face-up in the middle. He wasn't really following the rules, but neither of them were paying much attention to the game anymore.

Nick's smile was amused, but he said nothing to either admit to or deny whatever Ellis might have heard.

"So." Nick glanced up as Ellis spoke again - the mechanic tossing his hand of cards down. "Next question. What's th'dumbest thing y'done when y'were drunk?"

"When I was drunk?" The question was so absurd that Nick gave a rough bark of laughter; trust that to be Ellis's question. When everyone else was talking sex and dirt, all he wanted to know was how human you were. If Nick had been anyone else, he'd have admired that.

He pondered the question as carefully as he pondered his cards. "I got kicked out of Caesar's Palace for swimming in their fountain. And maybe screwing the owner's daughter." He gave a moment's pause. "Actually, I probably got kicked out for screwing his daughter. But I was drunk when I did that, too."

It was Ellis' turn to laugh. It wasn't like he hadn't expected that sort of an answer, but somehow, it was times like these that made Nick seem like he was someone much more approachable than the cynical, barb-tongued man that he was during the day. "Y'know, in some countries they shoot people like you. Some day some son o' bitch is gonna come after you for deflowerin' his darlin'."

"So long as I die in my bed with a beautiful woman at my side, I'd call it a good death," Nick replied easily. He flashed him a grin and rearranged the cards in the middle to make a flush. "Well, lookie there - guess I got the best hand. "

"Huh - so y'do." Finishing off the last of his bottle, Ellis spun it in one hand before tossing it back in the crate. "Whaddya wanna know, Nick? Go on - make it a good'un."

Nick took his time to consider it, watching Ellis as he tilted the wine back and forth in his mug. The kid was a source of endless curiosity to him. He was a complete, open book, and one that Nick  _should_  have been able to read - but he couldn't, and drove him mad. Being who he was, he couldn't fathom how anyone could put so much blind faith in strangers he barely knew; couldn't understand how someone could have so many stories about his family and friends but downplay completely his own part in all of them. He was always telling stories - in that enthusiastic, oblivious way of his - but never about himself, and it made Nick wonder what was really behind all that endless optimism.

A good question, huh… A moment later, it suddenly came to him, and he couldn't resist the smile - placing his mug down. "Alright," he agreed slowly. "You ever jerk yourself off, Overalls? What am I saying - 'course you do."

In comparison to the questions that had come before, it was so completely unexpected that for some moments, Ellis didn't seem to know how to answer it- choking on his beer and doubling over with a splutter, coughing and thumping his chest. "The hell kinda question's that…?"

"Y'heard me." That easy, shit-stirring smile was back, and Nick was watching him with more intensity now. For someone who frequently made an ass out of himself voluntarily, it was certainly entertaining to watch Ellis squirm now.

Avoiding his gaze, Ellis picked up the playing cards, using them as an excuse to distract himself. He may have been drunk, but he wasn't  _that_  drunk - or maybe he was, because he was certainly more flustered than he should have been. "I ain't answerin' that," he said, looking away. "Hell kinda-… y'all perverted-…"

It was truly a rare sight to see Ellis stuck for words, and Nick's easy smile widened. Yes, he was watching Ellis - he'd been watching him for a long while now. It was something he'd learnt the first day he'd started gambling. Watch your opponents, find out just how to defeat them, and then take every last bit you could from them. He might not have realised it, but he'd been applying the same rules to the Georgian mechanic - lulling him into a false sense of security, stripping his defences down before he took just what he was after.

And whether he realised it or not, he knew exactly what he was after, and his body had already made the next move for him. There were still cards across the floor, but Nick paid them no heed as he leant over them, his face suddenly closer to Ellis's than it had been a moment ago. "How long's it been since you last jerked off, kid?" He asked, made bold by either the drink or the devil, though he didn't really give a damn which. Ellis hadn't moved, like a rabbit trapped in headlights, and the conman was almost upon him, their faces so close they were almost touching. "That time we did it in Oaklawn? Can't do it without someone watching, huh…?"

In all truth, Ellis was too drunk to object to whether Nick was going to make a move on him or not, and he was still trying to get his mind around that impossible question before he realised that Nick was suddenly close, his hands too full of cards to push him away. Then, without warning, Nick's lips were on his, and any objection that might have been there couldn't make it past their tongues and really, he didn't want to because it was  _Nick_ , and he was drunk anyway and he couldn't seem to come up with any viable reason that they  _shouldn't_  be doing this.

For the briefest of moments, his body had tensed against Nick's, but then instinct and the frustration of too many nights alone was kicking in and suddenly, with no warning, he'd flipped the conman and straddled him, a powerful hand finding one of Nick's wrists and pinning it down to the floor. "Y'all gonna back that pretty mouth o' yours up, Nick?" He challenged, his voice a rough, husky murmur - certain of what he wanted now that he'd recovered from his shock and Nick had made clear that this kind of screwing around was perfectly okay. "I mean - I know y'could talk f'Africa, but we _all_ know y'all ain't that good at followin' through…"

It had taken Nick by surprise, when he'd found himself suddenly on his back amongst the scattered cards, but Nick was never  _not_  in control, even with cold cement pressing against his shoulder blades and Ellis' legs on either side of his waist, holding him there. "Now, that's just not fair," he replied, stretched out beneath the mechanic, his shirt unbuttoned sinfully low and his hair falling loose of its usual careful style. "I  _always_  follow through…"

He still had one hand free, and it had found the waistband of Ellis' overalls, and without warning his fingers were wrapping about the kid's cock and suddenly Ellis was muffling a curse and moaning against Nick's lips, hips bucking instinctively into his hand.

"Wait-…" Ellis could taste the wine on Nick's tongue, and the sharp taste of cigarettes, the heat of their kisses intense and making him breathless. "Coach an' Rochelle…"

Nick's other hand was free now, and he suddenly took a hold of the front of Ellis' shirt, shoving him back against the base of the shop counter and grazing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against his neck. "You're just going to have to learn to keep that mouth of yours shut then, aren't you?"

Clenching his jaw against the noise that rose unbidden in his throat, Ellis threw his head back against the counter as he fought to stay silent; all the while watching Nick through lustful, lidded eyes. He hated it; that easy, charming smile that Nick had perfected so well, that hid everything that the man was really thinking. He wanted to wipe it out - wanted to make a mess of that perfect mask, wanted to hear him moan and curse and lose all semblance of control.

So, when he was sure that he could do it without making too much noise, he fisted one hand in Nick's shirt and dragged him down to the floor with him, forcing a knee in between Nick's legs and grinding slowly downwards. "How 'bout we place a bet, Nicky?"

Ellis' hand was still holding him close, and Nick gave a surprisingly easy smile, stretched out beneath the mechanic. "A bet? I really am rubbing off on you… go on. Tell me."

"I bet…" His knee ground down again, and he gave a grin at the sound of Nick drawing in a sharp breath of pleasure. "… that  _you're_ th'one that ain't gonn' be able t'keep quiet," he murmured, his voice a husky challenge in the conman's ear.

Nick's eyes widened in surprise, but he'd never been known to turn down a bet - and a moment later, he was grinning a dark, sinful grin, fixing Ellis with that predatory gaze. "Fifty bucks," he purred.

It was going to be a rough gamble; but then again, Nick had always been a gambling man.


End file.
